


Runaway

by adiwriting



Series: Bound and Torn [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, References to Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strictly speaking, you aren’t supposed to be bounded. Soul mates weren’t supposed to find each other and when they did, the government did whatever they could to keep them apart. It was for their own protection, they always said, but what if there was a more sinister reason? **For now this is a one-shot story but might get developed later on into more**</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lokicorey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lokicorey).



Blaine sat in front of the mirror, re-applying his eyeliner and trying to get his hair to have the slightly sexed up look the guys here had shown him. It wasn’t hard to do after a nice shower. After two sets back to back and a private show with a client? It was hard not to look overly sexed. Nobody wanted used goods. That’s what he’d always been told. 

This was a burlesque club, not a brothel. People were supposed to get off on an illusion.

It wasn’t the worst thing Blaine had ever done for money. He’d been fourteen when he first ran away from home and about the time his savings ran out, the first winter without a winter coat hit. Starving, frozen and desperately alone, an older man, late forties, handed him fifty dollars and led him to the back seat of his warm car. Blaine had never gone down on somebody else before — he’d barely even kissed another boy — but fifty dollars could buy him enough food for a month if he lived off ramen and the occasional slice of bread so he didn’t protest for even a second. 

After that, it got easy to find just the right street to stand on so that he could attract the attention of a willing customer, but not the police. The last thing he needed was for the police to find him. They’d make him go back to his parents and that was one thing — the _only_ thing —Blaine refused to ever do.  

When he turned fifteen that summer, he had figured out a good enough system that he had a semi-permanent room at a hostel (nobody would rent apartments to somebody under 18 but hostels could be a lot more lax about things like photo ID). He was eating every day, mostly fast food since he didn’t have a kitchen to cook anything in. He had a few different outfits as well as a winter coat for when it got cold again. He was moving on up in the world and it felt amazing not to be homeless. 

Then he met a Latina girl who told him for a hundred dollars she could get him a fake ID that nobody would ever question and teach him how to look old enough that he could start working the club scene where the clients were richer and the drinks were always expensive and free. He hadn’t quite believed her when he handed over the hundred dollar bill he’d just earned that night, but he was hungry enough to start making more money that he’d been willing to risk it. 

She’d come through though and together they started working their way up to some of the nicest clubs in town. By his sixteenth birthday, Blaine’s rate had practically tripled and he had a regular client who was willing to put their name on the lease so long as Blaine and Santana paid him the rent money on the third of every month and not a day late. For the first time in two years, Blaine had a bathroom he didn’t have to share with crack addicts and random passer-throughs that were always trying to steal his stuff. He had his own bed in a shared studio apartment and he couldn’t have been happier. He finally had a home, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever had even before he’d run away. 

A few months later, he was approached on the street by a lovely blonde woman in expensive jewelry who looked like she was on her way to the theatre or a fancy restaurant by the looks of her black dress and Christian Louboutin heels. She gave him her card and told him she thought she had a job for him if he was interested in a promotion. He called Ms. Fabray the next morning and by that weekend he had his first job as an escort for a woman who bought him an expensive suit and paid him handsomely to pretend to be her boyfriend at some fancy ball. He hadn’t even had to sleep with her to get paid. 

He worked the next two years as an escort, booking client after client until he had his own apartment, a closet full of designer clothes and some of the most important people in Chicago in his phonebook. Not all of his clients wanted sex, but Blaine didn’t really mind it when they did. They paid extra for it and he had a drawer full of diamonds and gold to show for it. The kinkier the sex, the bigger the pay day and it certainly beat that first winter where he’d had sex in exchange for thirty minutes in a warm car and ramen for a month. 

Blaine wasn’t starving. He wasn’t homeless. He was eighteen years old and had more money than most kids his age could even dream of. It was the best he could have hoped for considering he’d run away before finishing his freshman year of high school. He wanted more for himself, but he didn’t dare dream for more than this. He knew that people like him didn’t get happy endings. They didn’t get to fall in love. He was damaged goods. 

He’d been damaged goods ever since he’d gotten beat up after the Sadie Hawkins dance. He’d been a lost cause when he heard his parents whisper to each other that they just wanted him to be normal. After the first time he sold his body for money, he’d stopped being a boy that could be repaired. He was hopeless. 

Until one day, Blaine was at a fancy piano bar with a client and got on the microphone to sing at his date’s request. After that, a man opening up a male burlesque club approached him and told him that he was looking for a star act and was willing to pay handsomely for it. It wasn’t as much money as he got for being an escort, but it had regular hours and paid more than enough to live comfortably on. Plus it had the added benefit of an iron clad promise from Mr. Puckerman that he would never have to sleep with another client again. He wanted Blaine to sell the idea of sex, but never the actual act. 

The sliver of hope, of a possible way out of his current life, was enough to get Blaine to turn in his resignation to Quinn that week. By Monday, Blaine was walking into a place on North Halsted that was still being renovated but looked like an old speak easy. It had a beautiful piano next to a stage. It had been years since Blaine had dreamed of becoming a performer, and this was far from what he’d imagined, but he couldn’t help but think this was a dream come true for him. Somebody as damaged as he was would never get the chance of selling out Solider Field, but performing for a room full of people every night was something he hadn’t dreamed he’d ever get to do. 

It was two years to the day that Blaine sat fixing his makeup and preparing for his third set. He didn’t usually have to work so hard, but Sebastian had quit abruptly and Puck had some important customers in town for a bachelor party and he’d been promised overtime if he could do a double shift tonight.  

When Blaine took the stage, it was to loud applause. Several of the customers had stuck around much later than usual tonight when they heard Blaine would be performing again. He had no shortage of fans, both male and female, by now. The spotlight on the stage was bright which made it hard to see the audience, but he was used to the stage lights by now. He began to sing ‘Seven Devils’ by Florence + the Machine. It was typically Sebastian’s song, but Blaine knew it well and he hadn’t wanted to force the other dancers to learn a new set by changing the song.  

Once he was halfway through the song and had his shirt entirely off, he began making his way down the stairs of the stage to walk through the audience, teasing them as he liked to do. It was the first time he really got a good look at everyone still in the crowd. He recognized several regulars who he smiled and winked at, knowing he could expect some generous tips tonight.  

Usually, at this point he would make his way back up to the stage to finish his set, but he didn’t. He found himself continuing to move back through the club, weaving around tables. It felt like a rope was pulling him back towards the stairs to the VIP booth where a group of men were drinking and laughing, most of them barely paying attention to his set. That was when Blaine’s eyes first locked on the gorgeous man who was staring at him like he was an answered prayer. Blaine could read the pain and longing in his eyes, but he could also see the pure love and hope as well.  

Men didn’t usually look at him like that. They looked at him with lust and infatuation. He was a dancer at a burlesque club, he doubted anybody thought of him with much respect. But this man seemed different. His eyes weren’t glued to Blaine’s chest, they were locked on his. 

“Blaine?” the man called softly. 

It was like a hand reached into his chest, gripped around his heart and pulled it out. The voice was so familiar to him but he couldn’t figure out why. He had never seen the man before, yet he found himself reaching out for him. Needing to have the man’s arms around him, to whisper in his ear that he would be safe. That his nightmare was over. He didn’t have to live this life anymore. 

The man’s eyes started to water and he shook his head over and over, willing the tears not to fall. The invisible rope that Blaine had felt earlier continued to pull on him until he was standing over the stranger. Blaine found himself breathing heavily as the microphone fell from his hand and hit the ground with an echoing thud. Everyone’s eyes were on the pair of them. This was most definitely not part of Blaine’s normal set.  

Blaine reached out to catch a tear before it could fall from the man’s cheek and the man was on his feet in an instant, cupping Blaine’s face and running loving fingers all over his body.  

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the man said with a choked laugh. “My mom told me I made you up. They sent me to a shrink.”  

“What?” Blaine asked. 

 “Oh Blaine,” the man whispered, peppering his face with kisses that warmed him. He wasn’t used to being touched in such an adoring way, nothing sexual about it.  

He felt something slam into his chest and he felt his heart start to beat again in an unfamiliar rhythm. He couldn’t explain how he knew that it was the man’s heartbeat he was feeling in his own chest, or even how it was possible, but that’s what it was. It was like something out of a fairytale. As the man smiled happily at him, Blaine _felt_ his happiness.  

“Please tell me that you remember?” he asked, resting his forehead against Blaine’s. “God, you’ve been so lonely. I’ve felt you this whole time. I’ve been so scared that I’d never find you again. That we’d both have to live the rest of our lives without each other.” 

“What are you—” Blaine started to ask what the man was talking about when suddenly there were lips on his own. Desperate, hungry lips that sent a surge through him until he could see two young boys in the outskirts of a small town where nobody had clearance to be. They were wrapped up in each other, leaving tender kisses on half naked bodies and Blaine could feel it. The bond. This man in front of him was his soulmate. It was his Kurt.  

He didn’t understand how. He didn’t know how he could have a memory of both being sixteen and living in a dingy apartment in Chicago, selling his body for money while also having memory of being sixteen and falling in love with a boy from a different security level of Ohio. He didn’t understand it, but he could feel it in the way the other man’s heart beat in his chest. The memory he was seeing, the one Kurt was sharing with him, that was his true reality.  

Before any more memories could make their way to the surface, he was grabbed around the waist and ripped away from the only person in the world it would physically hurt him to be parted from. 

 “Kurt!” Blaine screamed as he fought against two men in suits who where trying to pull him away and Kurt was held back by three more.  

“I’ll find you again!” Kurt yelled, loud enough to be heard over the screams of the club as a gunshot got fired and a large needle got put into Blaine’s neck.  

_Don’t forget_ is the last thing Blaine remembers thinking as everything went black around him.  

When Blaine came to, he was in a white room with padded walls and one long, wide mirror that he knew likely held a viewing room on the other side. Somebody had put him into a padded cell and was watching him. He heard the sound of metal clinking and turned to see a woman who looked so familiar with her long brown locks. She was pushing a tray over to him which was covered in surgical supplies.  

“What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly terrified. How had he gotten here? Who were these people?  

“This wouldn’t have to keep happening if you two could just stop finding each other,” she said. Without his contacts in, Blaine could barely make out the name tag on her white coat from here — Dr. Berry.  

“That boy?” Blaine asked as memories started to flow back to him. “Kurt?”  

“You’ll forget about him soon enough,” Dr. Berry said. “Hopefully this time forever.”  

“What?” Blaine said, trying to sit up but he found himself strapped down to the bed. “No! Let me go! You can’t do this! Help! Help me! Kurt!” he screamed but Dr. Berry kept fiddling with her tools like she couldn’t hear him. 

He struggled against the restraints and tried to pull out before she could touch him. He had the strangest sense of deja vu, like he’d been here before. He didn’t know what she was about to do, but he knew it couldn’t be good.  

“Why?” he cried once he ran out of energy. Whatever drugs they’d given him to knock him out were still in his system and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. He knew he had to though, he couldn’t fight back if he passed out and he knew that he couldn’t allow her to do whatever it was she was about to do.  

“This would have been easier if you two hadn’t fought against the de-bonding so much,” Dr. Berry explained, petting his hair almost reverently. “Don’t worry though. I’ll make sure I don’t give you such a hard life this time. I think that being so lonely forced you to call out to him subconsciously.”

 “I was lonely because we were apart,” he said, suddenly understanding what she was talking about. De-bonding. This was the place he’d been taken to when it had been discovered he was soul-bound to Kurt. He couldn’t understand how he remembered that since those memories had been erased, but he did.  

The reason he’d never been happy with his old life, why he always felt like there was something missing? That was his body calling out to the memory of a boy his mind had been forced to forget. He always felt worthless and potentially suicidal because that was how it felt to be de-bonded. He was too far away from Kurt. He was never going to be happy in his life if he kept the bond apart.  

“I’ll give you a nice girlfriend next time,” Dr. Berry explained, sending a chill through his body at the thought of losing his memory of Kurt again and being forced to believe he was in love with whatever sad girl they gave him to. “You’ll be happier. You’ll forget all about this pain.”  

“Please don’t,” Blaine said as tears fell from his eyes. “I don’t want anyone else but him. Please.”  

“You know the laws,” Dr. Berry said. “You can’t be bound to another, it’s too harmful.”  

She stuck a needle into his arm before he could protest further and when he woke up, he had no memory of the last four years ever happening. In fact, he had a completely new set of memories. Ones of a loving family. Memories of singing at a coffee shop his freshman year of college and getting discovered by a record label. Memories of his first Grammy for Best New Artist. None of which was shared with a loving boy with bright blue eyes.  

No. He was the famous singer Blaine Anderson, worshiped by millions around the world and his engagement to Tony Award winning Rachel Berry had just been announced in the papers today. 


End file.
